Tried to warn you on the ooc, but I'm guessing you didn't see it. If no one brought it up now, there would maybe be a continuity issue in other scenarios where it is obviously a problem being identified as a priest of sarenrae in Oppara.

Indeed Ith, I didn't see it, and Fog probably should know better. I can either change the description, or we can go with a very stupid looking Fog, who now has either no nice clothes, a quick shopping trip, or get's a kicking in the street.....

Luke, I was going for the scimitar being part of the Ceric's "uniform" so I'll leave it off. Definitely no armour. Urgh, this could get painful. So, for the retcon...

Fog appears in the courtyard looking more like a well to do miner, than an agent of Sarenrae. He wears formal robes of white, with a hem ringed with cloth of gold. At his cuffs, a small hammer is woven in gold thread.

He stands tall (for a dwarf) and holds himself with an air of confidence even the Taldans would be proud of.

Looking at Wadi, he breaks into a grin. "And don't we just look like a pair of strutting Cocks! Do we fit into this city, or not do you think?"

Aldred dresses in a white silk shirt with great ruffles and frills at the collar, under a black vest with embroidered green silk patterns subtly interwoven with tiny semi-precious stones and pieces of jade, and with gold buttons. He wears black tights with a gem studded codpiece, and soft, dyed calfskin boots up to mid thigh. Over the whole ensemble he wears a long black coat embroidered with patterns of green dragons with tiny rubies for eyes, gold buttons and oversized cuffs and collar. He wears several gold rings, and a black silk and felt hat decorated long with green, white and red feathers. Under the hat he wears a white wig, dusted with flecks of real silver, the hair curled and teased just so, tending to hide his pointed ears. His already pale complexion is hidden behind almost white foundation, his cheekbones are highlighted in rouge, his lips in dark red, and his eyes highlighted with blue-green eyeshadow.

Take 10 on Knowledge, Local check for result of 17 regarding beards and swords: if it would be appropriate for an upper class visitor to this nation to wear a beard, Aldred spends the sea voyage growing a goatee and thin moustache (his elven mother’s blood doesn’t allow him much more than this), both of which he trims neatly, curls and oils for this occasion. If it would be appropriate for a gentleman to wear a longsword on a formal occasion – or at least not overly remarkable – he wears his masterwork longsword at his side in a scabbard decorated with jewelled silks. If not, he leaves the sword behind.

He wears a dagger in a sheath at his belt (generally hidden beneath his long coat). He wears his component and coin purses, and takes his scrolls and potions hidden away in various pockets within his vest and coat. He wears his ring of protection. Other equipment and his armourt he leaves behind.

Magda is already in the foyer, generally frowning and tugging uncomfortably at her dress. While she was quick enough, she hasn't applied any powder or blush, didn't buy a powdered wig as is the local custom, and well- there is the black rat sitting on her shoulder cleaning its whiskers. The dress Alie picked out for her is beautiful, but Magda still looks out of place in it and clutches the slim matching handbag like it were a club. Without powder the dark circles under her eyes still show in a way that a true noble would never be seen.

"Everyone is ready now? We go then?"

Gear Carried:

Spoiler:

Noble Outfit
Signet Ring
Sapphire Hair Pin
Mw Handbag: (50 gp?[/ooc]
-Vial of Powdered Iron
-Coins
Wand of CLW and Mage Armor (holstered in garter belt / hose against her thigh)
Nephelus - Black Rat (around and about)
Note: No Cloak of Protection as it is a black shawl and will not fit in to the disguise.

The butler raises an eyebrow imperceptibly when you make your request, but is otherwise unruffled.

"Of course, M'lady, I will arrange for your carriage to depart now. The others can wait until a suitable conveyance is procured."

He then rings a bell, summoning a footman, who takes you out the front to a tastefully simple black carriage, drawn by four horses as black as the carriage they draw, apart from the white glow of their fetlocks, and the cream tassles affixed to their heads. The only indication of the ownership of the carriage is the Glyph of the Open Road, sketched in gold paint on the door of the carriage.

The footman offers you a hand getting into the carriage's snug interior, done-up in red velvet, and then you are off!

You pass through the city streets at a sedate pace, absorbing the sights, sounds and smells. Eventually, you reach the House of the Immortal Son: Once the second-oldest temple to Aroden (the first being the Basilica of the Last Man, also in Oppara), the House of the Immortal Son has, since the death of Aroden, been Taldor’s most opulent
and expensive opera house. It is a large, windowless, cylindrical building made of polished marble and granite and surrounded by thick, finely carved pillars. Built in the earliest traditional styles of the Azlanti, the opera house lacks windows (visitors are meant to look up, not out) and its roof is a complicated piece of stone statuary that replicates the holy symbol of Aroden, a winged eye gazing forever toward the heavens.

Your carriage pulls-up in front of one of the House's entrances; the Blue Entrance, reserved for members of the Taldan Elite. A guard at the door checks your tickets, and then you are ushered inside, where you behold a gaudy, marbled hallway with finely carved pillars, the white floor split by a thick, luxurious dark blue carpet. A servant with a tray of drinks approaches you, and offers you a selection of fine Taldan vintages.

"Apologies, M'lady, but the play does not start for another half hour. If you go through the door to your left, however, feel free to enjoy the comforts of the House Bar, whilst you wait for the performance to start."

Striding through the door, you find yourself in a high-class cocktail lounge, populated by two-dozen or so members of Taldor's jaded elite, dressed in their finest peacock-like attire. Your eye (and ear, for that matter), however, is drawn to an elderly Taldan male dressed in a severe black dress uniform, and wearing the Seal of a Consul around his neck on a thick, gold chain, who is verbally lambasting one of the serving lasses.

"I asked for a Pinot Noir, not a Pinot Gris. Honestly, who doesn't know the difference between a red and a white? If you were mine, I would have you horse-whipped. In the Hustavan household, we know our wines..."

@Aldred: Beardless is in fashion at present, although mutton-chops and moustaches are in favor with the younger generation. Wearing a longsword or rapier would not be *especially* common, but if it was peace-bonded (i.e. requiring a full-round-action to unsheathe it), and in a suitably dressy sheath, you would probably be able to get away with it, with no more than a few raised eyebrows. Swordcanes, daggers, and walking sticks / quarterstaves are considered *broadly* acceptable, if suitably 'ceremonial'.

As you all gather downstairs in the Lodge's sitting, you note one person is conspicuous by her absence: Alie Saechel...

Wadi smiles broadly at Fog and responds jokingly, "Yeah, I think the two of us will soon have the upper crust nobility eating out of the palms of our hands!"

As he sees Magda looking like a fish out of water (to put a charitable spin on it), he inwardly groans. I know she is a capable Pathfinder agent but still...I think she needs a hand here, and since Alie has not shown up yet, it falls to me I suppose.

He approaches the Ustalavan woman and holds an arm out for her to grasp. "I think it may be best if you are with me this evening?"

Magda shrugs and deadpans, "Okay. We go as dates then. But dwarf and half-elf make strange couple, no?" Her face remains nearly neutral but for the slightest mischievous smile which is reflected in her eyes.

After a few minutes more of waiting Magda sighs, "Where is little one? I will find her." In a few minutes more she returns. "Alie is not here."

Aldred's eyes widen behind his makeup at Magda's comment, then he bursts out laughing as he realises it is a joke. "Fog is a fine fellow, but far too hairy about the face for my tastes," he says, twirling his recently grown moustache.

When Alie is reported missing, he begins to grow concerned. "Where is she? She was getting ready, I passed her in the hall on her way back from the bath room. She was supposed to be helping you Magda..."

Alie heads toward the loud man in the bar. Without waiting for an introduction, Alie approaches his table. "Sir, if you please, I have a message for you from Baron Dalsine."[/b[. Seeing his reaction, she draws closer, and in a high pitched whisper, she warns, [b]"The Baron knows about the secret account, knows who funds it, and expects you to fully discuss it with him at The diplomatic meeting in Absolom next month. Have a good evening," she cheerily adds as she turns to find a drink, waiting for her friends to show up.

The Consul pales noticeably at your comment, before whispering furiously.

"Keep your voice down! My loyalty to the Emperor is eternal!"

He then turns away, pointedly ignoring you, but being very careful to find a quite place on the other side of the bar to where you are, where he orders, and then downs, a large scotch...

That should do nicely :-)

After a few minutes of observing the crowd, a bell rings three times, and an usher loudly announces:

"My Lords and Ladies, the performance is due to start in five minutes. Please take your assigned seats, and enjoy the show!"

The assembled ranks of Taldan nobility then begin to file into the central auditorium...

...Filled with classic church pews now covered in the finest silks and cushions, the main room of the opera house is what you’d expect from a temple-turned-theater. An odd mixture of religious symbols (all of the deceased god Aroden) and modern theater tropes cover the walls, ceilings, and finely-carved pillars.

The wooden stage is painted black and currently decorated to look like a jungle underworld, with fake plants, vines, and a backdrop of jungle scenery. An orchestra pit separates the stage from the main opera house and a thick, red velvet curtain conceals the back stage area.

As you try to take all of this in, you spot your friends, who have obviously just entered via the 'commoners' door!

Everyone except Alie Saechel:

The butler is overseeing some dusting in the front hall when Aldred finds him.

"Miss Saechel, M'lord? She left about 10 minutes ago; something about wanting to get to the Opera early... I am afraid that she took the official carriage with her, but I have arranged for a substitute to be delivered here."

At which point, the doorbell rings.

"In fact, that should be it now. If you will follow me...?"

The butler leads the party out to the front of the building, where a dark brown hansom cab, drawn by two chestnut stallions, awaits.

The butler rings a bell, summoning a footman who offers you a hand getting into the carriage's snug interior, which is done-up in red velvet, and then you are off!

You pass through the city streets at a sedate pace, absorbing the sights, sounds and smells. Eventually, you reach the House of the Immortal Son: Once the second-oldest temple to Aroden (the first being the Basilica of the Last Man, also in Oppara), the House of the Immortal Son has, since the death of Aroden, been Taldor’s most opulent
and expensive opera house. It is a large, windowless, cylindrical building made of polished marble and granite and surrounded by thick, finely carved pillars. Built in the earliest traditional styles of the Azlanti, the opera house lacks windows (visitors are meant to look up, not out) and its roof is a complicated piece of stone statuary that replicates the holy symbol of Aroden, a winged eye gazing forever toward the heavens.

Your carriage pulls-up in front of one of the House's entrances; the Green Entrance, reserved for the rare occasion when commoners are allowed into the Opera. It is shut and barred, but when a bell is rung, a guard comes to the door, and, after glancing over your tickets, and staring long and hard at Magda, finally steps aside and ushers you inside, where you behold a rather plain hallway, filled with simple granite pillars. The tedium of the floor is relieved by a bright green carpet, which leads into the central auditorium, an area filled with classic church pews now covered in the finest silks and cushions; exactly what you’d expect from a temple-turned-theater. This melange is rounded-out by an odd mixture of religious symbols (all of the deceased god Aroden) and modern theater tropes which cover the walls, ceilings, and finely-carved pillars.

The wooden stage is painted black and currently decorated to look like a jungle underworld, with fake plants, vines, and a backdrop of jungle scenery. An orchestra pit separates the stage from the main opera house and a thick, red velvet curtain conceals the back stage area.

As you try to take all of this in, uou are greeted by an usher, who directs you to your seats, just as a bell rings three times.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the performance will be starting soon. Please take your assigned seats, and enjoy the show."

As the assembled ranks of Oppara's elite trickle in from what is apparently a private bar on the opposite side of the theatre, you spot your missing member amongst them!

Aie waves at her friends, as she rushes up to them. "Sorry guys, I got so excited that I just had to get here early. I haven't don't the opera in a long time. You all look adorable. Magda, see what I told you...you're pretty as a picture. You all clean up really nicely. Yu ready to take our seats?

Fog strides into the Opera, trying to look like he is perfectly at home there, and as arrogant as the rest of the audience. When he sees Alie he breaths a sigh of relief, and strides towards her. "Well met little one! But how on Golarion did you get into there!"

"I'm not 100% sure, Fog. I know more people around here, than most of the places we've been, but I was sort of just whisked into the room with the crowd. Guess it pays to be early, sometimes. Sorry again for just running off, but I was sooo excited to get to the Opera. I'll mind my manners, and remmeber to invite everyone next time, I promise!"

Magda is more or less unconcerned. Alie is safe if a little rude for leaving without telling anyone, but that is her business. She lets the others catch up, nods to Alie and takes her seat when everyone is ready.

Smartly dressed ushers in black silk uniforms skillfully direct you, and the many other audience members, to their seats, without the slightest modicum of difficulty.

The audience, despite mainly consisting of jaded nobles, is abuzz with excitement; it is opening night for Lorenzo Astrecchio's latest masterpiece, Among the Living.

As a result, you are unsurprised by the fact that the auditorium is packed; it is a miracle that the Society was able to get you tickets, even if those tickets are right up the back...

Still, you manage to get a good view of the stage.

Among the Living is an epic tale of a lone Ulfen warrior named Victory, who sails to the ends of Golarion, crashes off the edge of the world, and finds himself in a gothic paradise where he falls in love with the undead queen of a jungle kingdom.

As yet another twirling dancer in a brown costume festooned with bright pink, flowing silk scarves spins across the jungle set at the front of the stage, the orchestra reaches a screeching crescendo that crashes the entire opera to a halt. The dancers stand quietly for a moment, breathing heavily and listening to the scattered applause across the obviously bored Taldan audience. Suddenly, a sound like a thousand gongs shakes the entire building to its very foundation and the audience murmurs in a mixture of delight and fear. The actors and orchestra, however, flee the stage, disappearing behind the curtains.

Moments later, all of the doors into the central auditorium are flung open, and a horde of 'walking corpses' stagger in. At first, the audience titters in excitement, but when a dapper gentleman in the front row is pulled from his seat, and has his throat torn out, the crowd erupts into shrieks of fear. Well-dressed nobles attempt to flee like rats escaping a sinking ship, or futilely draw daggers and sword canes to provide themselves with a token defense.

Before you are able to act, more than a score of audience members are torn apart in front of you!

Then, just as you rouse yourself from your seats, four of the pack descend upon your position...

This cannot be good...although I have to admit this show just got a lot more interesting...

"We have to hold them here before they slaughter more people!" Wadi leaps to his feet and heads towards the group of zombies already calculating how many he can catch in the cone of his flames. Waving to Magda his intent to approach the zombies, he adds [b]"I need some backup here!"b/b]

For some time Magda is uncertain whether the performance was some kind of a ante garde piece or people were really in danger. When Wadi springs into action, she decides to follow suit. Magda jumps to her feet, throws one leg up on her chair and hikes her dress up mid thigh to retrieve one of her stashed wands.

In Skald she hisses, "Nephelus! Are they truly dead? Do they walk without souls?" while activating the wand to protect herself somewhat.

The acrid smell of burned flesh fills the auditorium; the zombie closest to Wadi appears to have taken the brunt of the cone of flame, but all three continue forward, completely undeterred by the fact that skin and muscle have been burned away all over their bodies; they are truly beyond pain...

Magda, somewhat unsure about what is going on, decides that defense is the best idea, and casts a spell, surrounding herself in a shell of armor constructed from pure force.

Aldred is caught unawares, and stares unbelievingly at the uncoming horde of zombies, which has started to chew its way through the asembled high society of Oppara like a starving man through a buffet.

Fog mutters a blessing under his breath, and throws a bolt of fire at one of the middle zombies. It flies true, punching a neat hole straight through the zombie's skull; it staggers for a moment, before it falls to the ground, twitching spasmodically, before finally going still.

Most of the crowd which has not already been engaged by zombies, attempts to flee, piling out of the main auditorium by any exit they can find, more than one society belle getting trampled in the process. The remaining audience members grimly attempt to fight-off their attackers, but it is a losing battle - ceremonial daggers and foppish swordcanes are really no match for remorseless, dead flesh...

Alie throws a bolt of positive energy at the zombie previously charred by Wadi; a warm glow momentarily suffuses the zombie, warring with the negative energy animating the corpse, before both wink out, resulting in the zombie falling to the ground, 'lifeless' once more.

The two remaining zombies then charge the closest living target - which unfortunately is Wadi...

"Fog, extend your hand!" Magda circles out of the row of seats and reaches over a row to grant him the same armor of force when she touches his hand with the tip of her wand and it flares ghostly blue.

Wadi slumps to the ground, unconscious, although thankfully, he stops bleeding.

Magda moves up to Fog, and using her wand, envelops him in a shielding suit of force armor.

Nodding his thanks, Fog moves forward, and holding his holy symbol high, intones the blessings of the Dawnflower.

As the healing light of Sarenrae washes over him, Wadi's eyes flutter open, only for him to realise, to his horror, that he is prone in front of two rather *hungry* zombies...

Meanwhile, the mass exodus from the central chamber continues; most of those who remained to fight have been torn apart, although they have left their mark upon the undead; the aisles are littered with the corpses of both Opparan socialites, and former zombies.

Magda rushes to Wadi's side and with a whispered prayer her hand is consumed by a golden nimbus. She reaches down to tap Wadi on the shoulder and the golden light travel down his body dispersing between the potentially broken ribs and his bleeding leg.

Aldred shakes off his initial shock and moves begins singing a Pharasmin hymn about not suffering the dead to live. Putting his song to action he slips in behind the zombie on Wadi drawing his dagger as he moves.